Merry Bloody Christmas
by Cats070911
Summary: Sometimes there is much more to a family tradition than meets the eye...
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. Inspired by a recent faux pas with a hotel room key (sleeping in a car is not fun), and a conversation with Tess. It is one story, but split into three chapters to make it easier to format.

* * *

Matthew Lynley shook his head as he watched his parents in the backyard of their Belgravia townhouse. "They're at it again," he said to his sister, Emma.

She laughed and handed him a drink. "They do know we don't believe in Santa any more?"

He sipped the single malt. "I don't think so."

Emma turned to her guest. "Sorry, Tim, my parents can be a little quirky."

Tim took her hand as they all stood by the window. "What are they doing?"

"Putting out water for the reindeer."

"Thirsty animals. How many buckets do they have?"

Matthew laughed. "Eight. If you look closely you'll see each bucket has a reindeer's name on it. Rudolph up front then the others. Mum'll lay out carrots soon, next to the buckets."

Tim put his arm around Emma. "That's rather cute. How do they know where each reindeer will be?"

"Oh, Dad has it all worked out. When we were kids he told us he had rung to check with Santa," she said.

Matthew laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, and Dad had us out there with cut-off broomsticks measuring the right distance based on reindeers in harness. Two broomstick lengths between them apparently. The idea is that they pull in, stop at their allotted bucket to drink while Santa came down the chimney and left our sacks. The reindeer were fuelled and ready to go when he came back out."

Tim raised his eyebrows and smiled. "How did he know the direction they'd come from?"

"Good question," Emma said as she snuggled against him. "Knowing Dad he would have said that Santa had to file his flight plan with Scotland Yard so that they knew he wasn't a UFO or something."

Matthew pointed out the window. "Look. There goes Mum with the carrots. They'll come in now and drink Santa's milk and eat the cheap Christmas Cake Mum buys every year just for Santa."

Tim wrapped his arms around Emma. "That's so sweet, Em. We should do that with our children."

Matthew was still looking at his parents and smiling. Secretly he admired them for maintaining their tradition. "I think you'd better marry Em before you mention children to Dad. He's very protective of my older sister."

"Oh, and he's not of you future Earl? No, I forgot, you're Mum's favourite."

"Only because I look like Dad when he was young. And he likes you because you look like Mum."

Emma turned to Tim. "They both love us equally, but spoilt brat here gets extra consideration because he's the baby and the heir."

"I do not. What about the money Dad gives above your allowance? He won't give me any, and neither will Mum."

"Because you live at home. You should have followed me to Oxford." Emma turned to Tim. "Dad went there too, but Matt here decided to rebel and go to LSE. I think Mum encouraged him so she could have him at home longer."

"Do you two always bicker like this?"

Matthew smiled then kissed his sister on the cheek. "Yeah, it's sort of a family thing. Hard to explain."

"Matt, we're going to tell Mum and Dad tomorrow, but Tim asked me to marry him earlier tonight, and I said yes."

Matthew shook Tim's hand then hugged his sister. "That's wonderful news."

"I know." Em cuddled back against her fiancé. He smiled then gave her a lengthy kiss. "I don't think I can keep it a secret until lunch time. Mum will guess."

Tim grinned at her. "Why don't we go down and tell them now?"

Matthew followed the happy couple downstairs to the kitchen. His parents were standing by the bench with half-drunk glasses of milk in front of them. He was about to speak when his father fed his mother a piece of cake. She reciprocated then lovingly pushed a lock of grey hair out of her husband's eye. "Merry bloody Christmas, Tommy."

"Merry bloody Christmas, Barbara." His father lifted his mother onto the bench, then kissed her so passionately Matthew had to look away.

"Mum! Dad!" Emma's voice made Matthew turn. His parents also looked up guiltily. His father removed his hand from under his mother's shirt and her hands snapped against her sides, leaving his father's bulging fly half undone.

His mother recovered first and hopped off the bench. "Emma, Matthew, what are you two doing down here? I thought you'd given up on 'lame Christmas traditions' years ago. Hello, Tim. Glad you could come over. How's your mother?"

"Well thanks, Lady Asherton. She sends her regards."

After turning away to adjust his clothing, the elder Lynley came over, kissed his daughter, slapped his son on his back, harder than was necessary, then shook Tim's hand. "I suppose this looks a bit strange, but it's something we have done every year we've been together."

"I think it's wonderful, Lord Asherton. I hope... Emma and I have some news."

Barbara came over and stood beside her husband. He put his arm around her shoulder and they stood, united as always, waiting.

"Mum, Dad... tonight Tim asked me to marry him." She paused waiting for a reaction. Matthew smiled when his parents exchanged a quick glance then continued to look at her. "And I said yes."

"Congratulations!" Tommy said. This time he embraced his daughter then his son-in-law. "I told your mother Tim would propose before New Year."

"You told me? I think you'll find I told you it would happen months ago." She turned to them. "You will finish your Masters first?"

Emma laughed. "I told you she'd say that. Yes, Mum. We won't get married until after September."

"Excellent. Plenty of time to plan. I think it's romantic. Did Emma ever tell you that Tommy proposed to me at Christmas too?"

"I didn't know that," Matthew said.

"Neither did I," Emma said wide-eyed.

"Just goes to show you don't know everything."

"Was it romantic? Tim even went down on bended knee."

"It was romantic, Em." Tommy put his other arm around his wife and gave her a quick kiss. "Should we tell them the story?"

Barbara smiled at him. "Yes, we'd better pull up some stools. Do you like Christmas Cake, Tim?"


	2. Twenty Five Years Before

"Merry bloody Christmas!"

Barbara Havers put her groceries on her doorstep and sat down. Unusually for London, light snow was falling. It stayed on the ground and looked pretty but soon softened to sludge. She rested her head in her hands and stared at it, wondering how she could have been so stupid.

Her rational side kicked in. Calmly, she turned out the contents of her bag and replaced the items one by one. No keys. She checked all her coat pockets systematically. Nothing. Barbara sat back on the step and tried to remember exactly what had happened. Work had been long and tiring. Her boss, Tommy Lynley, had insisted she spend at least 30 minutes at the pub having drinks with the team. At 31 minutes, she had bid him goodnight and Merry Christmas and left. The Tube had been crowded but not unbearable and she could clearly remember opening her door and tossing her bag on the kitchen bench before making herself a coffee. The milk had been off. The label said the use by date was six days over. If she had to go to the shops, she decided to also pick up extra bread, and some real food. If she was off for three days, she would need to eat.

Now, with two bags of food, including her impulse purchase of a Christmas cake, she knew what had happened. She had grabbed her car keys from the hook, picked up her bag, and left her house keys still sitting on her bench. "Bloody hell. Where will I get a locksmith at this hour on Christmas Eve?"

A few years ago she would have gone next door and retrieved her spare key from Azhar. Now that he had moved, the only spare key she had given out was in Belgravia with Tommy. She groaned. The last person she wanted to see was him. Actually, that was a lie. She wanted to see him. That was the one constant in her life, a constant desire to spend time with him. But was not wise. One day he would look at her and realise she was in love with him. Then he would run. Worse, he would be disappointed in her. Tommy viewed their friendship as sacrosanct. Any taint of impure thoughts, of romance, would spoil it for him. She sighed. She had no choice but to drive to Belgravia, paint on her best-friend-but-no-more smile, and liberate her spare key from his study drawer.

* * *

Tommy Lynley had stayed as long as he could at the pub. To his great disappointment, Barbara had left early. He had hoped... He sighed, then groaned as his head hurt. For months he had tried to find a way to move their relationship forward. He had taken her to dinner, accompanied her to the movies and had even taken her to a few West End shows. Barbara had been totally oblivious to these being dates. To her it meant nothing more than a few pints together after work. She saw him as her best friend, someone she could drink with and go to events where being solo drew unwanted attention. Never once had he seen even a flicker in her eyes wanting it to mean more. Even when he had jokingly said 'it's a date' after she suggested they both go to the annual Christmas Carols at Trafalgar Square one evening the previous week, she had missed his real meaning. Draping his arm around her shoulder as they sang together had raised no more than a companionable smile. She had not even snuggled closer.

He sighed. It was time to find a cab and go home. He had plenty of bottles of whisky for company over the next few days. Even Barbara had given him a nice Macallan single malt. It seemed everyone wanted him sitting at home drinking himself slowly into a early grave. Well tonight, he was happy to oblige. "Merry bloody Christmas."

* * *

Knocking on his door had been futile. There were no lights on, and she knew he was still at the pub. She pulled out her phone to call him. "Oh what else? Bloody Christmas."

She threw her phone back into her bag. She had forgotten to charge it last night, and her charger was locked inside her house. With no real alternative, Barbara returned to her car. She would have to wait until Lynley came home.

* * *

Tommy noticed her car as soon as the cab turned into his street. Parked three doors up, he passed it as the driver searched for his number. Barbara's head was leaning against the window. His immediate delight was tempered by concern. Why would she be here now? It was almost midnight.

The driver fussed over change. "Keep the extra. Merry Christmas."

A twenty pound tip on a fifteen pound fare seemed excessive, but he could afford to be generous. As soon as the cab pulled away, he turned and raced over to Barbara's car. He smiled. She was not unwell, as he first feared, just asleep. He could hear her snoring through the glass. Lynley watched her for a few moments, wishing that she was asleep in his bed, in his arms. It was pointless dreaming.

"Barbara! Barbara."

* * *

She jerked awake, hitting her head on the door support. "Argh! Bloody hell!"

She looked up. Tommy was trying to hide a smile. She pushed the door open. "Why are you shouting?"

"Because you were asleep. Why are you sleeping in your car in my street?"

"Long story. I need your spare key. I managed to lock myself out when I went to buy milk."

"Seriously?"

Tommy glanced over her should into the footwell of the back seat. It annoyed her. Being a policeman and distrusting everyone had its uses, but not believing her was infuriating. "Don't you believe me? Why else would I be here on Christmas Bloody Eve?"

"Not because you missed me, obviously."

She frowned. He sounded bitter. She was the one who had waited for an hour and he was the one taking offence. "I miss my flat. You are the only one with a spare key."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"My phone's dead. I forgot to recharge it. Now, if you could just fetch my spare key, I will leave you in peace for the rest of Christmas Eve."

Tommy glanced at his watch then fished in his pocket for his keys. "Too late. It's nearly midnight."

"Wonderful."

He twisted a key off his key ring and slammed it into her outstretched palm. "Merry Bloody Christmas!" He turned and began to walk to his townhouse.

Barbara winced, then slammed her fists against the steering wheel. She could not let them part with bitter words. Not at Christmas. She got out of her car. "Sir, wait. I'm sorry."

* * *

Tommy's anger evaporated. He turned and walked back to her car. "So am I, Barbara. I can understand your anger at locking yourself out."

"Yeah, but it wasn't your fault."

He shrugged. "Who else are you going to take it out on? As it's Christmas, why don't you come in for a drink?"

Barbara frowned at him, but nodded. "I'd like to, but I have milk and stuff I should get into the fridge."

"My fridge has space. Put it in there. I'll remind you to take it."

Barbara opened her back passenger door. He understood he was expected to carry them. He smiled. Years ago she would have been far too independent, and too reserved, to even suggest that.

* * *

Barbara was surprised at how devoid of Christmas his fridge seemed. There was not one item of a festive nature, or luxury. "Are you going to Howenstowe after all?"

Tommy looked up from where he was searching her grocery bags for the milk. "No, Mother is in France with her best friend from her schooldays, and no one else will be there. Why?"

"There's nothing to eat in your fridge."

"Yes, there is. I have vegetables, meat, milk. I'm not going to starve."

Barbara took the milk from him and put it on a shelf. "There's some ice cream there too."

Tommy handed it to her. "A bit soft but it will be okay. You must have been cold waiting in the car."

Barbara shrugged. "It wasn't too bad, but don't change the subject. You have nothing special here for Christmas."

"I didn't think you were big on Christmas."

"I'm not really, but I do like the food."

Tommy laughed. "Well, had I known you would arrive on my doorstep at midnight, I might have planned my menu differently."

"There's some cake in the bag. I Was hungry. That's why I went to the supermarket."

Tommy grinned at her and shook his head. He found the cake and then pointed to a drawer beside her. "The knives are in there."

Barbara cut four slices of cake while Tommy poured two glasses of milk. "Cheers," he said, clinking his glass against hers. "Merry bloody Christmas."

"Merry bloody Christmas." She could not help but smile. He was grinning at her. His soft eyes had that look, the one that always made her insides melt. She had to look away, but her eyes refused to cooperate. She felt tears begin to well.

"What's wrong?"

His voice was tender and caring. It forced her to look down. She wiped off the tear that fell on the bench top. "Nothing."

"It's something."

She looked up. "I'm just being silly. I used to imagine when I was young that one day I would have finished putting excited children to bed, then help my husband put out water and carrots for the reindeer before eating Santa's milk and cake with him in the kitchen before we put out Santa sacks for them and went to bed for a few hours until they woke and came in, jumping on our bed and yelling with excitement that Santa had come."

"That's a beautiful image." Tommy's expression was one she had never seen. He just looked at her, staring beyond her face into her soul. "As a child I insisted we put out a bucket for each reindeer. I even worked out how far apart to put the buckets."

Barbara smiled. A lock of hair hung over his eye. When that happened, she had always wanted to reach out and tuck it behind his ear. This time she did, letting her fingers brush across his face. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

"You should have a brood of children," he said, "four at least."

"Not at my age. Two maybe. A boy and a girl."

Tommy picked up a piece of cake but instead of eating it, he held it up for her to take a bite. She did. He smiled so hard she felt her heart pounding in her chest. He offered her to have another bite.

Barbara ate, then lifted the other piece. Tommy continued to look at her while he ate it.

* * *

For the first time, Tommy could see beyond her last defence. More tears formed in her eyes. This time he was faster. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand. With his thumb he wiped the tears from one eye, but let those from the other side fall.

"Two children," he murmured.

She was trembling under his hand. "What?"

"We will have two children."

"I don't understand."

"Don't you, Barbara?"

She shook her head. He leant forward and brushed his lips tentatively against hers. When she did not object, he began a series of light kisses. Barbara exhaled slowly through her nose and moaned softly. Tommy pressed his mouth against hers a little harder and longer. It was not long before she returned the pressure, light at first as if she feared he would break if she kissed him too hard.

Tommy twirled his fingers in her hair and pulled her face closer. His kisses lingered until he felt her lips soften and part slightly. He slipped his top lip between hers, and began to grind her bottom lip gently. Barbara groaned and her resistance stopped. Eager lips sought his in a fiery exchange. Tommy moved closer and pulled her into his arms. Lost in the moment he did not notice that their mouths had opened until her tongue touched his, beginning a gentle exploration. Now it was his turn to groan.

Their faces stayed close as they caught their breath. "I've wanted that for so long," he whispered.

"Me too."

"Will you let me make love to you?"

She laughed softly. "Is that my Christmas present?"

"No, but hopefully the start of a long tradition. Every year after eating our cake, we will make love before the children wake up."

"You haven't asked me anything yet. Only assumed."

Tommy dropped to one knee. "Barbara Havers, I love you more than words can say. Until tonight I thought it was unrequited, but now that I know you love me too, let's not wait on protocol. I want to marry you, tomorrow if I could. Will you help me put out water and carrots ever year? Will you feed me milk and cake then make love to me? Will you have my two children? Barbara, will you make me happy by agreeing to marry me?"

He watched her nod as tears streamed down her face. He wanted to hold her and kiss them away, but he waited to hear her words. "I love you too. Yes. Marriage, two children, carrots, and cake. Yes."

Tommy rose and hugged her. Their kiss was fiery. He took her hand to lead her upstairs. "And will you let me make love to you tonight?"

She nodded, but refused to budge. "Here, in the kitchen. Our own tradition."

Tommy frowned. "Are you sure? My bed is more comfortable. We can make love for hours up there."

"Tommy?" She tried out his name for the first time. "It's not going to be slow, not the first time."

Tommy grinned at her so hard his cheeks hurt. "No, you're right. It's probably not." He lifted her gently onto the counter. "It doesn't mean..."

"I know, Tommy." Barbara grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer. Her kiss was hard and demanding. He understood.

* * *

Afterwards, as they lay in his bed having just made long, slow love to each other, Barbara traced her fingers over his chest.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, hoping she was not disappointed.

"Is your kitchen soundproof?"

"I've no idea," he said with a chuckle, "I've never screamed out in their before. But I'll have it soundproofed before the children are born. We can't have them thinking we are killing Santa."

Barbara laughed softly. "Yes, and what would your neighbours think of us yelling Merry bloody Christmas like that?"

"So do I need to have any other rooms soundproofed? Did you have any fantasies about New Year?"


	3. Epilogue

Tommy and Barbara looked at each other and laughed. Matthew and Emma were speechless, and Tommy recognised the look in Tim's eye as the young man looked at Emma.

"Did we shock you, dear children?" Barbara teased.

"Mum!" Matthew protested.

"Oh, don't be so prudish. Did you really think the stork brought you?"

"No, but you two were about to... in our kitchen! Every year?"

"Hmm, yes. Here or Howenstowe."

Tommy smiled at Barbara's smugness and waited for the penny to drop with his children. He did not have to wait long.

"Oh!" Matthew's face screwed up in horror.

Emma looked over. "What?"

"Our birthdays. September 26 and October 4. Were we...?"

Tommy and Barbara looked at each other and smiled. "We like to think so," Barbara replied. "Emma was certainly conceived that first week we were together. We were at it like rabbits until New Year, so hard to tell exactly when. It was easier with you. We had deliberately abstained in the fortnight before and then the week after, your father developed the flu. You were conceived right here." Barbara patted the bench.

Everyone laughed, and after a few seconds, Matthew joined in. He looked over at Tim. "Welcome to our family. Em told you they were quirky."

Matthew hopped off his stool and went around the bench and hugged his mother. Tommy moved closer and Matthew's extended his arm around his father's waist. Emma joined in, dragging Tim into the group hug.

"Merry bloody Christmas," Barbara said.

Everyone answered in unison, "Merry bloody Christmas."


End file.
